


Let it Be

by hulksicle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Fem!Cas, Genderbending, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:36:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1705055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hulksicle/pseuds/hulksicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel fucked up big time. He lied to the Winchesters, made a deal with Crowley and to top it off pretended he was God. When all that went wrong the Winchesters gave him up for dead, got rid of the leviathan and tried to get on with their lives. But then a pretty young woman who looks an awful like Cas shows up. How do you deal with your best friend coming back from the dead after such a betrayal? What do you do when he shows up with a great rack to boot? </p><p>Sassy, genderbend AU from the beginning of series 7.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dude Looks Like a Lady

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was started after the end of season 6, only a few episodes into 7. This is therefore an AU from that point onward in which Castiel is brought back by the ever enigmatic God as a lady. I left it for a very long time and can no longer remember where I was originally going with it. So I edited it and began it over because I couldn't leave the idea of a Cas gender!swap alone. 
> 
> This is a sastiel fic, and while it will seem a little like Sam is only in it for the pussy I guarantee you that isn't the case and he will get the D soon enough.
> 
> I'm not sure what the ratings are gonna be later on because idk if I'm gonna be hella graphic about the sexy times...
> 
> Yeah no I'm probably gonna end up being graphic. Whatever, just read it and enjoy it and if you have suggestions drop em in my inbox or comments because I still don't know what is gonna happen yet. ;)

Sam was sitting on the steps outside of the door of the motel room he and his brother had rented, staring at cracks in the concrete, and trying to figure out what they were supposed to do now that this whole leviathan mess was over. Without Bobby, who had been more like a father than a friend and fellow hunter, and Castiel, the angel that had been a constant fixture in their lives for the past four years, Dean was a mess. The promise of vengeance, and the preoccupation of the hunt had kept Dean from wallowing in the despair that Sam knew he felt, but now the leviathan were gone. Dean hadn't gotten his revenge after all, those damn things were too hard to kill, and in the end Crowley, of all people, had helped them throw the beasts back into purgatory.  
Now Sam sat there waiting for Dean to hit his breaking point. Their family was dead and gone, their revenge thwarted, and their only ally was the king of Hell. Things were not going so well for the Winchesters. Dean was so close to losing it and that scared Sam more than any monster ever had. It was why he hadn’t told Dean how bad it’d gotten for him too. Dean wouldn’t be able to bear Sam’s burden along with his own and Sam knew Dean would try to anyway. So Sam sat outside on the step in front of the room and watched the cracks in the asphalt because he knew he’d get into a fight with his brother if he stayed in the room any longer.   
He heard the footsteps before they were anywhere near him, but it wasn't Dean's heavy footed gait that made the sound, so he kept his head down and his eyes on a patch of weeds growing on the curb. He was so tired that the yellow flowers of the dandelions swam in and out of focus and he had to blink heavily to clear his vision when the source of the footsteps stopped in front of him.  
The feet that obscured his view of the dandelions on the curb were small and feminine in a pair of black oxford dress shoes. He raised his head ever so slightly to take in the rest of the woman in front of him. Shapely legs clad in navy hose, a skirt of the same color that began just above her small knees, and a rumpled white shirt with a school girl collar. Sam's eyes widened and he stood to better see her. She was short and the top of her head, with its long messy dark hair, only came to his shoulder. Her skin was olive and her eyes were a familiar ice blue. Her wide mouth and straight nose bore a striking resemblance to Jimmy Novak. In fact she was practically his female doppelganger. "Sam?" The voice was the same, if a tad higher in pitch, a bit more feminine, but it was still the same. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, but there was no way it could have been anyone else, so he had asked.  
"Cas?" Sam was gawking at him, mouth open, eyes wide, "Castiel is that you?"  
Cas blushed, or rather his vessel did, the human body he inhabited outwardly displaying the emotions he was still so unused to having. "Yes it's me Sam." He was embarrassed for so many reasons, for his plan blowing up in his face just like Dean said it would, for leaving them to correct his mistakes, and because Sam was staring at him.  
"But what… how are you… what is… you're a GIRL?" Sam stumbled over his words, his voice was thick with confusion, with concern, but it was thankfully lacking the rejection Cas had expected. He blushed again as he realized that Dean probably wouldn't be as kind or as tongue tied as Sam. Sam stopped trying to get the words out and swallowed hard. He turned around slowly, hands running through his hair, until he came about full circle and looked at Castiel again.   
"You're alive." Sam's face broke into a smile, slowly and hesitantly, but it was still a smile. "That's all that matters."  
Sam meant it, Cas knew he did, Sam would accept him for all of his oddities and his flaws for the same reason he had forgiven Cas when Dean could not. Sam understood what it was like to fall from grace, to be an abomination. Even Castiel setting himself up as a false god and coming back to life afterward as a woman wasn't enough to stop Sam from accepting him. Cas blushed again, his vessel reacting to the feelings of unworthiness boiling up inside of him. He had almost destroyed the entire Earth, he had ignored the warnings of the Winchesters and worst of all he had gone against his Father.  
Yet he was being forgiven. The brothers had saved the planet from him, and God had brought him back again even after everything. Sam Winchester, of all people, was forgiving him. Cas had broken down the wall in Sam’s head causing him who knew how much pain and Sam was glad he was alive. His vessel's eyes began to tear up in response to his shame and he saw Sam's great bulk through a film of moisture as he choked out a hurried "Thank you."  
When he saw the tears in the eyes of the strange, yet familiar, woman that was now Castiel and he heard the emotion in his (her?) voice he did the only thing he could. He moved forward and wrapped his arms around the crying angel.  
Castiel stiffened as Sam's arms surrounded him. Hugging was a new concept for the angel. His time as an almost human had not left him accustomed with human displays of affection. He was barely used to the feelings humans felt, translating those feelings into an outward expression was even more alien. The Winchesters were very huggy however. At least Cas thought so. After a few seconds he found himself relaxing as his vessel's natural reaction to the embrace kicked in. Sam's body was warm and his arms were solid; Castiel found his head resting on Sam's chest due to his reduced height. The rhythm of Sam's breathing and heart beat were soothing and Cas realized how much he had missed this; missed being with his friends, missed being cared for.  
When the moment had passed and the two drew apart Sam spoke softly. "Dean's inside, he'll want to see you." Cas nodded, and moved toward the door only to be stopped by Sam's hand on his arm. Had it always been that big? Suddenly Castiel felt fragile in comparison to the human, a small quiver of primal fear shook him for a moment. Sam looked him in the eye, the 'sad puppy face', as Dean referred to it, firmly in place. The fear abated as quickly as it had come in as Sam looked at him. "He might not react too well. You know after the whole leviathan thing. And to, you know," he gestured to Castiel's new body, long arms making a sweeping motion in the air, "the way you've changed. At first anyway, just, give him some time okay?"  
Castiel nodded, a new sort of fear taking root in his stomach, "Okay."  
"And Cas?"  
"Yes?"  
"Don't take him too seriously, alright? He doesn't try to be a dick, but sometimes, well, you know how Dean is."  
Castiel nodded and braced himself inwardly as he opened the door. Dean was going to chew him out if nothing else. It was how he was when he was angry, and Cas knew he’d be angry. He had a right to be angry. But Dean could cut as easily with his words as he could with a knife. The things he said could be their own kind of torture. Even if the things he said were true or the blame he levied was well deserved Cas dreaded hearing them. Cas especially didn’t want to hear the truth about what he’d done. Sam understood the idea of someone suffering enough from their own guilt. Not to mention Cas all but exploding from stuffing himself full of souls. Dean had trouble letting things go, and he didn’t seem to realize that he was rubbing salt in the wound more often than not. It sometimes seemed that he forget Castiel had feelings. Or at least he did now, thanks to Dean and all of his "free will or die" talk. But Cas had thrown as many or more accusations at Dean when he’d been playing his hand at God. If Dean freaked out at Cas it wouldn’t be Dean’s fault.   
But Sam knew it was going to be bad. Dean was going to freak out at Cas not just because of the leviathan thing or the God thing. Dean was strung tighter than a guitar string about to snap and he was going to direct all of his discomfort and frustration onto Castiel. Sam still knew his brother that well at least. Sam couldn’t help but feel bad for Cas. Sam knew the angel was more sensitive than he let on, especially when it came to Dean. Dean was the first friend that Castiel had ever really had, and Dean was the first person to ever ask Cas what he wanted out of his life. Dean would hurt Cas the way Cas had hurt Dean. Sam remembered how he had worshipped his big brother as a kid and he recognized that same look in Cas's eyes when he looked at Dean. He'd also seen the same hurt in them when Dean had admonished Castiel's plan to win Heaven's civil war, the same disappointment of having Dean see him as a child instead of an adult, and the same shame at letting Dean down after going against his advice. It was going to be really bad.  
And it was. From the moment Cas walked in the room things went south. Dean was sitting at the table cleaning his weapons. Sam was glad they were so thoroughly disassembled, though he didn’t really think Dean would be mad enough to shoot Cas. He looked up at the sound of the opening door, his greeting dying on his lips as he saw the woman next to his brother. At first Dean didn't recognize him, he moved to cover the cache of guns and other hunting implements while stuttering out a string of curses.  
“Dammit Sam,” He said jumping up.  
“Dean it’s ok.” Sam said hands up in a universal gesture of calm.  
Sam could tell was both a blow and a momentary relief to Castiel for Dean not to recognize him. Then he did recognize him, and things really went wrong. There was a lot of confusion and questions and then somehow the yelling started. All it took to get Dean to yell was a stressful situation and someone to say "Calm down," before he would start.  
"I AM CALM SAM! WHAT PART OF THIS DOESN'T SEEM CALM TO YOU!"  
"How about the part where you're completely flipping out at Cas, huh Dean? Does that seem calm to you?"  
"HE'S A FUCKING CHICK SAM. JESUS, DOESN'T THIS WEIRD YOU OUT AT ALL?"  
"Of course it does, I mean, it's a little weird, yeah, but it's still Cas." Sam signed, "I mean hell Dean, it's not like he's doing this to try and jack you off or anything."  
“You mean like how he jacked us off by playing fucking GOD?”  
Sam's brother sat down on the edge of the motel room bed and ran his hand over his face. Sam knew Dean didn't mean to come off as harsh as he did; Dean was the glue that held everyone he knew together and in the process he had himself come completely undone. Dean took on everyone’s burdens as his own and felt every deviation like a betrayal. His entire life was about protecting the people he cared about and Sam knew how much failing at that destroyed Dean. Sam could see the veins in his brother's neck pop as he strained to regain his composure, and he saw how his brother glanced longingly at the bottle of Jameson, sitting on the table by the guns, when he removed his hand from his face.  
But Sam idolized Dean for a reason, and once again his brother put them before himself and he turned away from the bottle on the kitchenette and focused his gaze on the woman who was now Castiel. "I didn't mean to freak out Cas. But God this is some freaky shit." Sam smiled to himself; Dean's apologies were always a bit, unorthodox.  
"It's a new vessel," Cas said in his slow serious drawl, "Jimmy was destroyed by the leviathan and refused to be resurrected again, it was time for his reward and he stayed in heaven."  
"So who are you wearing now?" Dean asked in a tone that was sarcastic but not as accusatory as it had been.  
"His cousin," Cas sighed, "Apparently he doesn't have much of a family, and the family he does have isn't particularly pious; with the exception of his cousin Jen, whom I'm 'wearing', as you so eloquently put it."  
"Why didn't you switch to her back when Jimmy ran away before?" Sam asked, it seemed to him that would have been a simpler solution than Castiel's previous strategy of possessing the man's daughter in order to black mail him into accepting a life as Cas's vessel.  
"I thought perhaps this body would make you uncomfortable," Cas sighed in a very un-angel like way, "It seems that I was correct about that."  
It did make Sam uncomfortable; Castiel's new vessel was attractive in a cute sort of way and Sam didn't feel right acknowledging that when Cas was the person inside. Cas was still Cas, even if his body was female. It had been so long since Sam had hugged a woman he was grateful for the bone aching exhaustion that had made arousal a distant memory or he might have done some awkward thigh poking earlier. He’d all but forced himself to let go, the comfort of being close to someone was something he lacked lately. The small soft body of Jen Novak was an added comfort that also somehow absolved Sam of the potential awkwardness of clinging to Jimmy’s strong frame.   
When the tense reunion with Dean had ended, after being doused in holy water, Dean had embraced him and even apologized, sort of. But the hug from Dean wasn't like the hug from Sam. Sam's embrace had been tender and lingering where Dean's had been a short, squeeze you tight, and then pat you on the back, manly sort of hug. Dean's hug had been just like every other hug he'd had with the hunter before, but Sam had never acted so gentle with him. Sam’s hugs were usually awkward and flinching.   
Castiel wondered if it was because his body was female instead of male and blushed when he realized the implications of such a thing. He was inexperienced but he knew how men treated women differently when they had certain notions about them. He'd always been fond of Sam, it was different from the way he was fond of Dean, but he was not sure if that fondness constituted the sort of feelings that pizza men felt for baby sitters. Cas wasn’t even sure why he was entertaining the idea. This body was strange and everything seemed strange from inside it. His stomach clenched in ways he didn’t expect, both the emotions he felt and their sources were catching him off guard. He hadn’t had his vessel very long, nor had he been human for most of it. His grace had slowly ebbed away as he searched for the Winchesters and now he was left with almost nothing. His actions had cost him something in the end after all.   
Cas sat on the bed that Dean wasn't on and unsuccessfully stifled a yawn. Sam and Dean had almost identical looks of confusion on their faces as they turned in perfect synchronization to stare at him. "Did you just yawn?" Sam asked.  
"Yes."  
"I thought angels didn't get tired." Dean interjected.  
"Angels don't need sleep because of the energy their vessels receive from their grace. However," Castiel continued in his girlish voice, "if an angel has fallen from grace, or their grace is lost or diminished then their vessel would require all of the rest and nourishment of a normal human. Or close to it. Remember Anna? She wasn't completely human, she was an angel in a vessel technically, and do you remember when we were trying to stop the apocalypse?"  
"You fell asleep in the Impala," Sam said quietly.  
"Exactly, my grace was leaving me due to my extended stay on Earth and my disobedience, making me essentially human. The same thing is happening now." Cas stated matter of factly.  
"You lost your grace?" Sam asked incredulously.  
"Essentially, yes."  
"Makes sense to me." Dean mumbled as he rose from the bed.  
"What?" Sam stared at his brother and Castiel could feel the impending argument the same way he could feel electricity in the air before a lightning strike. "How could you say something like that?"  
"What Sammy? I'm not trying to be mean or anything. Sorry Cas," He shot a glance at the woman on the bed, "But let's be honest here, you teamed up with the king of Hell, opened purgatory, ate a bunch of monster souls, and then pretended to be God. We passed up your run of the mill AWOL angel disobedience a while back."  
Castiel nodded slowly as Dean recounted his transgressions. He knew that he deserved to be punished, that he deserved much worse than losing his grace, but Sam didn't seem to share that sentiment. The taller brother stood there seething as Dean walked into the kitchenette and went back to re-assembling his firearms and sipping whiskey straight from the bottle.


	2. It's Not as Bad as it Seems... It's Worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops sam is crazy

Sam wanted to hit his brother over the head with the bottle he had glued to his lips. He was talking about Castiel as if no one had ever made a mistake before. Their friend was alive and he was judging him. Instead of being upset that Cas had lost his grace, instead of being empathetic to Castiel's loss he was empathizing with the holy big wigs that had demoted Cas to human. Sam put up with a lot of crap from Dean, especially since Bobby and Cas had died. But now Cas was back and Sam was sick of dealing with Dean's smart ass remarks. Not to mention the fact that he hadn’t slept in days and having an angel for an ally would have been really helpful right about now. Sam hadn’t had a lot of friends but he had always believed in turning the other cheek with them.  
"What the fuck Dean?" Sam had known prolonged contact with Dean would lead to an argument.  
"What the fuck Dean, what?" Dean shot back, taking the bait like a starving trout.  
"Don't act like Cas is the only person who ever made a mistake, ok? We've all fucked up here.”  
"Excuse me Sam?"  
"Don't act like Cas is the only guilty person in this room Dean!"  
"I'm not Sam." Dean's voice was not raised, or even harsh. "I know what I've done. Just like Cas knows what he did.” Sam didn’t expect such a serious and sober response from Dean. The exchange between them didn’t seem to be about Cas so much anymore and Sam felt his anger start to ebb away. Dean took a hearty swig of whiskey and sighed, he needed space; they all needed some space. The motel room was stifling in the early summer heat and full of conflict. The Jameson bottle now empty, Dean picked up his flask and shook it, satisfied that it was full enough he tucked it into his worn leather jacket.  
"I'm going out for a drink, don't wait up." He patted Cas on the shoulder as he walked past. “Good to have you back.”  
With that Dean departed the motel which left Sam still standing in the middle of the room anger replaced by a sense of shame. He felt that he had wrongly accused his older brother out of his own stress and guilt, he’d dragged Cas into it too, making the entire situation that much worse for everyone. His emotions were on a hair trigger these days, and all he wanted was a fucking nap because maybe then he wouldn’t be acting like such a bitch. He kept getting it wrong. Sam hated that while it always seemed like Dean judged everyone unfairly it was really him that got it wrong. Dean was usually dead on, which was why his words had such an impact. Being called a freak hurt the most when you knew it was true.  
Yet for all of his brother's harsh words and abrasive personality Sam knew that Dean was actually a much better person that most, and sometimes, Sam thought, that included him as well. It wasn't enough that Dean was always right while Sam seemed to constantly make the wrong choices. He also had to be a constant reminder that there was something inside Sam that was wrong That no matter how good Sam tried to be he would always have evil inside of him. It didn't matter that Azaezel was dead or that he didn't use his psychic mojo anymore because Sam knew that deep down a part of him was still that person. You could stop drinking demon blood, but you simply couldn't get rid of your own. He remembered hearing from his dad once that a drunk was always a drunk even when they stopped drinking. He was like that too; his darkness was in the background always waiting to reemerge.  
"Poor Sammy," Where Dean had been moments before on the bed now sat Lucifer, or a hallucination of him, Sam could never keep it straight in his head. "Your big brother is still a better person than you. Even jumping into the pit couldn't reform you could it? All that sacrifice, all that suffering, you’re still suffering and it’ll never matter. It will never make up for what you’ve done. Even the wingless angel over there gets forgiven."  
"Shut up." Sam was so tired of this. He was so tired.  
"Sam?" Castiel got up off of the bed and moved toward the hunter.  
"Oh Sam, really, let's not start that again. We should get back to the issue at hand. You know I’m not going to shut up. You know you don’t deserve me to shut up. After all of this time you still doubt your big brother. Even after all of the trouble you caused by not listening to him. Starting the apocalypse, saying yes, I mean you couldn't even manage to over power me without him holding your hand. I'm ashamed to say Sammy; it seems he's just a higher quality of man than you could ever be." Lucifer shook his head and clucked his tongue like a disappointed parent. “And you just keep on disappointing him.”  
"SHUT UP!" Sam didn’t care if he deserved this, he didn’t care if Lucifer was right; he just wanted it to stop.  
"SAM!"  
Cas shook Sam’s arm violently trying to snap him back to reality. He'd been standing there in the aftermath of his fight with Dean when he'd suddenly zoned out. Then he’d started talking to himself and Cas realized he was looking at something. His eyes were fixed on some person or vision that Castiel couldn't see. Then he started shaking his head as if he was hearing someone else say terrible things, and then he'd raised his voice even louder than he had with Dean. He'd kept yelling too, saying "shut up" over and over again. His face was red and his hands were clenched. 

"Sam, calm down!"  
Sam's eyes closed slowly and he began to shake his head as if to clear it of a certain thought. He allowed Cas to lead him to a chair by the small table and sat down heavily, hands still clenched. When he opened his eyes he immediately glanced in the direction he'd been staring so intensely at, and shut them again quickly. A moment passed and he didn't open his eyes, instead he un-balled his fists and pressed his hands to his ears and murmured, "Shut up, oh God please just go away." It was barely a whisper, more of a prayer than anything, and it scared Cas terribly.  
"Sam," Cas called the man's name gently and knelt in front of him as Sam bent to rest his head near his knees. "Sam, who do you want to go away? Sam? What's wrong?"  
"Make him go away Cas," the younger Winchester sounded close to tears, "He won't leave me alone."  
"Who won't leave you alone Sam?" Cas felt the cold beginnings of panic churning his stomach.  
"He never stops talking. Day and night, he's always there, whispering such awful things." Sam's voice broke into a whimper and he pressed his hands more tightly against his head. “And the worst part is that he’s right.”  
Castiel's stomach dropped completely as he realized what was happening. He’d broken the wall in Sam’s head himself after all. His small hands grasped either side of Sam's face as he forced Sam to look him in the eye. "Sam can you see Lucifer? Is he talking to you?"  
"Yes, he never STOPS Cas." Sam's eyes were wild with fear and Cas noticed how dark the circles under them were, as if he hadn't had a real night's rest in weeks. "It's been months and he hasn't stopped. He just keeps talking, day and night, and I can't take it anymore Cas! I just… can't take it anymore…" He slumped back down in his chair, pulling his face from Castiel's grip and resting it in his own. "I'm so tired."  
Castiel didn't know what to do, so he did what Sam had earlier and wrapped his arms around Sam in a hug. His vessel's arms weren't able to reach all the way around the hunched man, but his grip was tight and warm. A minute passed and he felt Sam relax in his arms, a slight shudder went through them and Castiel suspected Sam was trying to suppress a sob. He tried to be strong in front of Dean, Cas knew, because he didn't want Dean to worry about him. But Cas also knew how much harder that made things on Sam, just like it had made things harder for him.  
He was almost out of grace but he used what he could to ease Sam’s pain. He used most of his residual power by healing some of the damage done by the sleep deprivation and temporarily blocking out the hallucinations. A more permanent solution would need to be found, but right now Sam was sagging forward with exhaustion.  
In Castiel's embrace Lucifer's taunting grew quieter and quieter until Sam couldn't hear the jibes and venomous remarks that hadn't stopped in almost a year. Unable to contain himself Sam let out a sob of relief before regaining control of his body and emotions. He felt exhausted, and slumped forward drunkenly against Cas who struggled to push him upright in the chair. Together they stood up and walked over to Sam’s bed where he flopped down onto his stomach. It was still light outside but Cas felt as tired as Sam looked. He pulled the covers around Sam as best he could and hopped onto the other bed. The last thing Cas saw before he fell asleep himself was the smile on Sam’s face as he slept.


	3. Wakey Wakey Eggs and Bakey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm being completely ridiculous shhh

Sam slept hard that night not even waking when Dean came back to the motel and flopped onto the bed next to him. He was still asleep when Castiel woke up to the smells of coffee and bacon in the motel’s second bed. Which also smelled of Dean but had been virtually un-slept in until Cas had curled up in it after Sam had nodded off. He made his way to the bathroom as a wave of discomfort swept over him indicating that his bladder was full. Humanity was so hectic; a constant stream of needs and discomforts. He had gotten semi-used to it during his former stints as human. But once Cas got to the bathroom he encountered a… dilemma of sorts. Jen’s physiology was markedly different than Jimmy’s had been. Castiel hadn’t quite anticipated how complicated the differences between human sexes were, nor had he prepared for them. He was standing there legs crossed wondering about aim when Dean decided to check up on him. 

“Everything alright in there princess?” Dean’s booming voice startled Cas and he almost peed himself. A blush was creeping onto his face as he imagined Dean explaining female anatomy to him. “You get too attached to your throne? How long does it take to pee sitting down?”

Sitting down! Of course sitting down, just like when he had to “go number two” as humans so tastefully put it. Honestly the entire bathroom thing was complicated when you were supposed to just pick it up. Castiel knew for a fact that they took years to toilet train human children and though he was markedly smarter than a human baby he would have benefited from some instruction. Unfortunately human emotions also made the entire topic too embarrassing for words… especially with Dean. Two minutes and a thorough hand washing later Castiel was enjoying breakfast. He was also starting to miss his old vessel. Women it seemed were as complicated as he had suspected if not more. 

He wondered how Raphael had switched back and forth so easily. Castiel did not dislike women but he was certainly fonder of his male body thus far. First off he was shorter now, which made things like hugging and reaching things difficult and awkward. Secondly his genitals were mysteriously internal which concerned him because he’s never really paid attention to that part of a woman before. Third, people kept treating him differently as a woman, and whether it was nicer or ruder it still annoyed him. Dean had admitted that Cas having a female vessel was upsetting to him. Sam was really the only one treating him the same and Sam was more than a little crazy right now.  
Lastly Cas wasn’t really sure how he felt about his breasts. They certainly complimented this body but were getting in the way of his breakfast and any attempt to cross his arms had become undesirably complicated. Since Cas was so frustrated as of late he’d found himself trying to cross his arms a lot recently. He leaned over his plate and sighed as his long hair almost landed in his eggs and his boob knocked dangerously against the glass of orange juice he’d set too closely to the edge of the table. Dean began to chuckle but stopped when Cas glared at him.   
“Woah woah,” Dean put his hands up in surrender, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I keep being a dick I know but if you don’t sit back in your chair your tits are going to knock over your juice dude.” Cas scooted back in his chair and sighed.  
“These things are complicated,” he lamented. His face was starting to burn again. Was it just him or was Dean staring at his chest?  
“Are you kidding?” Dean cupped his hands in front of his chest, “I’d love to have your rack.”   
“I don’t think they’d suit your figure.” Castiel said giving him an incredulous look. Dean had definitely been staring at his chest. His eyes widened at Cas’s remark and then Dean started howling with laughter.   
Dean had to sit down because he was laughing so hard. It was a deep sincere and hearty laugh that Cas found infectious, though he had honestly meant what he’d said. Dean Winchester would look ridiculous with boobs. Their laughter was what woke Sam, and it was the best thing he’d woken up to since the last pancake Sunday at Bobby’s. Cas was red faced and smiling from his chair in front of a huge breakfast obviously made by Dean who was equally red faced and clutching his stomach in the chair across from him. It was a complete 180 from the night before. He’d slept like a rock, no nightmares or morning wake up calls from the Devil.  
“Did I miss something?” He asked, the laughter stopping almost instantly when the two noticed he was awake.  
“Did we wake you?” Cas asked breathlessly, his wide eyes full of concern. Sam thought it was a little creepy that Castiel’s eyes still looked so much like they always had. He wondered how the Novaks had felt about the strong family resemblance, fond probably, not creeped out. Sam realized he was staring and turned his head away with a small chuckle; moving to sit down at the table.   
“Yeah, but it’s ok.” Sam smiled, “I would have hated to miss this breakfast.” He plopped down onto Dean’s chair as his brother got up to make him a plate. Sam’s helping contained extra bacon, Dean’s way of apologizing, and he smiled when his brother squeezed his shoulder before heading into the sleeping area.   
“Are you feeling better?” Cas asked, glancing toward where Dean had gone, worried about saying too much when it was obvious that Sam hadn’t told him about the hallucinations. Cas knew that Sam probably didn’t want to worry Dean, but he also knew that not telling Dean the truth usually ended badly. Something like guilt began to build in Castiel’s stomach as he thought of Sam lying to his brother, suffering in silence when all he’d done was sacrifice. Suffering alone because he didn’t want to worry Dean with everything else going on… with Cas going crazy and pretending to be God… Not to mention the trip to crazy town was all because of Cas in the first place.   
“Yeah,” Sam smiled through a mouthful of bacon, “I’m feeling a lot better Cas, thanks. How about you?”  
“Me?” Cas asked scrunching his eyebrows the way he did when he didn’t understand humanity. Why was Sam asking about him? Sam was seeing Lucifer with his waking eyes for god’s sake and here he was asking about Cas?  
“Yeah Cas, you.” Sam looked concerned, “Do angels not have identity crisis when they get gender swapped?”  
“Actually I think that would be an apt description of what I’m experiencing.” Cas nodded and looked contemplative, when he spoke again his voice was a whisper. “Even using the toilet has become complicated. It’s like starting at being human all over again.”   
“That sounds awful.” Sam’s mouth had turned down at the corners as he considered Castiel’s predicament. “Anything I can do to help?” Cas shook his head and Sam smiled at him in that pained Winchester way that was like seeing a dog try to get up after being hit by a car. “If there is anything you do need just let me know Cas, really. Ok?”  
“Ok,” Cas smiled back just as Dean walked back in.   
“Alright so when you two are done with breakfast we’ll head out.” He was already cleaning up, full duffel slung over his shoulder. “Cas you look like a hung over librarian, we’ll stop somewhere and get you clothes.” He gave a devilish smirk. “It’ll be fun.”


	4. Strut Strut Fashion Baby

That hardest part of being a woman thus far was definitely clothes shopping. In Jimmy’s body Castiel had simply bought clothing with the same numbers in them. Apparently clothing for women followed two different sizing systems and they were both drastically different than the one that menswear adhered to. Then there were dress sizes and shoe sizes which were also completely foreign to Cas. In the end he ignored the dress size issue entirely, opting for pants and kept the oxfords Jenny had been wearing because he was sick of trying on motorcycle boots and tennis shoes. Not to mention the spike heels that Dean had made him model. He’d hated the way they pinched his feet and made him feel unbalanced, even though he kind of liked how tall they made him. Shopping as a woman meant you had to try on EVERYTHING.   
No two shirts were cut the same, and no two pairs of pants fit in the same places. His hips were too wide for everything and his legs were too short. He was shocked to find that his breasts were actually too small for some of the clothing he tried on, thrown over the dressing room door at the goodwill by the Winchesters, the shirts hanging loose in the front. The longer they shopped the more obvious it was to Castiel who was selecting what clothing. Sam must have chucked five checkered shirts over the door, and at least two polo shirts. Dean was alternating between throwing band shirts and mini skirts at him. Luckily neither one of them seemed as exasperated and bored of the experience as Cas was. Sam and Dean were having a blast.  
He ended up with two pairs of jeans, one that each Winchester had suggested. Dean’s chosen pair were faded and tight in the ass; they flared out at the bottom and had a rhinestone button on the fly. Sam’s pair was a darker wash and he had called them “skinny jeans” although the pair Dean had picked out was much tighter. Cas liked the stitching on the pockets and how comfortable they were. He’d also chosen to get a faded gray Led Zeppelin shirt that Dean insisted he needed to buy since it was “awesome.” For some reason that shirt, and a lot of other women’s shirts were called “baby doll tops” which flummoxed the angel.  
“I am not a doll miss.” He’d told the young lady who’d been helping them.  
“You sure about that sugar?” She winked at Cas suggestively and he blushed. She smiled at him, not knowing that he was a ‘him.’ ”Anyway don’t worry about it, that’s just what they call shirts cut that way.”  
Cas was not impressed with fashion or its lingo. He got a few more plain shirts of a similar cut to the Zep one, in navy and brown. With those he had kept two of the checkered shirts Sam was so fond of. They were soft and he liked that he was being included in the Winchester uniform of plaid and denim. He also kept a light blue polo that Sam had found him. Lastly was the brown jacket. It was cut like a blazer and was made of soft and worn but warm chocolate corduroy. Cas was glad for it as he folded up the trench coat Dean had saved for him. It was much too big for him in this body and in addition could use a good cleaning. He’d spent the entire car ride to the store in it after Dean had pulled it out of the Impala and handed it to him. Cas had felt truly welcomed back then. Now he put it back in the trunk with the rest of his things and got into the back seat of the Impala. If he sat back in the seat his feet didn’t even reach the floor. He gave a sigh.  
Five hours later Cas was grateful that his new vessel was so short. He’d stretched out on the back seat of the car and was snuggled up under an afghan blanket he’d found on the floor. The rocking of the car and the thrum of the engine was soothing when combined with the sound of Dean singing along to Zeppelin. (Who he had insisted on listening to after insisting that Cas wear the shirt.) Cas found himself falling asleep again as they headed west on some highway out of Iowa. He sleepily watched the power lines pass by against the backdrop of endless prairie until he drifted off entirely.   
He woke up covered in sweat, heart hammering in his chest on the floor of the Impala. His throat felt raw and he pressed his small hand against the base of it, trying to sooth both it and the panicked thudding of his heart beneath his breasts. The door on the driver’s side opened and Sam was leaning over the seat calling his name. Then Cas remembered the dream. Sam in the pit being tortured in the worst ways imaginable, and some that Castiel had not thought he was able to imagine. The entire time Sam had begged them to stop and begged Dean to save him and blamed Cas for everything. His screams were what echoed in Castiel’s ears, not the one that he had let out in his sleep which had caused Dean to hit the breaks hard enough to topple the small woman onto the floor. Dean hauled him back onto the bench seat of the Impala and began checking him for injuries.  
“Are you ok?” He asked, hands combing through her hair looking for bumps, “Cas are you alright? What happened?”  
“I think he just had a nightmare Dean.” Sam said sitting back in his seat and looking sadly at Cas. “Did you have a nightmare Cas?”  
“Y-y-yes.” Cas stuttered, his throat still raw and his voice raspy. He cleared his throat and Sam handed him a water bottle. It helped, but Cas still didn’t think he could get the words out to tell them about the dream. He still saw Sam covered in blood and screaming. He’d been burning and bleeding at the same time, just like his mother had. That had been the least awful thing that he’d seen. Lucifer had done such things to Sam. He had done such terrible terrible things and Sam had been screaming Cas’s name the entire time.  
Cas leaned out of the Impala just in time to avoid puking on Dean’s floor. Dean’s boots weren’t so lucky. Cas sputtered out apologies while Dean held his long hair out of the way. Sam slid into the backseat next to him from the passenger side door.   
“It’s ok Cas, you’re ok.” Sam rubbed circles on Cas’s back with his huge hands. They were strong hands, not burnt or broken or reaching out in desperation. Sam was here and he was alright.   
Cas wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and swished some water in his mouth to get rid of the taste of bile and bacon. Sam wrapped the blanket around him again and Cas leaned back worn out from the entire ordeal. Instead of his sleep being restful he felt twice as tired as he’d been before. He found himself tucked up against Sam’s side, head resting on Sam’s shoulder with Sam’s arm still around him rubbing absently up and down his arm. Cas’s legs were tucked up on the seat to the side. Sam seemed larger than life in the aftermath of the nightmare. He was warm solid and comforting in his realness. Cas pressed a hand to his chest and felt the thrumming of his heart begin to slow to a more normal speed. So scared and small in this body Castiel felt much like an orphaned baby rabbit he’d once watched for an afternoon. That had been hundreds of years ago, before the Winchesters were even a thought, and Cas had never imagined being as terrified as that little creature. He’d even pitied it from his lofty angelic perch. Who was the baby rabbit now?  
“Must have been one hell of a nightmare,” Dean said quietly as he pulled back onto the road. Cas cringed at the choice of words and Sam looked down at the top of Cas’s head with a frown.   
“He’ll be ok,” Sam said to Dean. “I’m sorry,” he whispered more quietly to Cas who shook his head in response, long hair tickling the underside of Sam’s jaw.  
Sam knew those screams. He woke up with them caught in his throat anytime he tried to sleep. He didn’t cry out anymore, his body no longer betrayed him that way, but he woke up with them trapped inside him. The night before he’d been too exhausted to ask what Castiel had done to him. Then he’d gotten caught up in the excitement of everyone’s good mood. Breakfast, shopping at the Goodwill, even the car ride had been relaxing and upbeat. Everything was Satan free and peachy keen until Cas had started screaming in his sleep. It was like Lucifer haunted Sam even when it was Castiel having the nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for all the hurt/comfort cuddles


	5. Midnight Highway Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some sappy crap.
> 
> Dean's POV this time.
> 
> I was probably drunk when I wrote most of this, and definitely drunk when I edited it.
> 
> But this is ye olde plot advancement in action... sort of.

The Impala was the only thing in Dean Winchester’s life that was constant and reliable. When he turned the key in the ignition her engine roared to life, sometimes defiantly, every time. Though she was over forty years old she had endured and Dean had no doubt that she would endure another forty. He could rebuild her from the ground up if he had to. He’d done it before, after the crash that should have killed him. There was another thing to love about his baby: he didn’t have to sell his soul to save her. He sighed guiltily and looked at Sam in the rearview.   
His brother was sleeping in the backseat with an unconscious Castiel snuggled up against him. Cas had only been back for two days but he and Sam were thick as thieves. Dean wondered suspiciously what it was between them that was causing this whole “buddy buddy” routine. Sam and Cas had never really been close. It had taken years and the apocalypse to get them to some level of mutual respect and even then Dean had felt the strain between them. They shared a tentative relationship centered on Dean. Cas had always been reckless and fatalistic in his decisions regarding Sam, most of his concessions and kindnesses toward Sam were for Dean’s benefit. Just when he’d had thought Cas and Sam had found some sort of personal connection, somewhere between Sam’s sacrifice and “soul searching”, Cas had broken open the floodgates in Sam’s head. Dean really wasn’t over that yet. He wasn’t sure if he ever would get over it, or if he should.   
He was glad Cas was back. He was really glad that Cas wasn’t dead. He’d missed the guy more than he’d expected he would. (Because yeah, he wasn’t really surprised by his friends dying anymore and he’d come to just accept that and its multiple levels of fucked-up-ness) Sam was distant and quiet these days; something Dean chalked up to Hell PTSD or whatever. It was awful to sit there and watch Sam retreat into himself and to feign normalcy. He remembered what it was like, and he still wished he didn’t. He knew that Sam had to be suffering but he couldn’t tell how much or figure out how to help him. Still this quiet brooding and sometimes spaced out Sammy was better than the alternative that Dean had expected. An alternative which had been something like his brother going bat shit crazy or having his head explode or something. In those moments of tortured silence and distance from his brother Dean in his loneliness had almost pined for the angel’s companionship. But then Cas came back.  
Dean had felt like the fragile peace between Sam and him might be the start of something more permanent and stable. He had felt like maybe things were finally going to be normal again. It would have taken some time and probably a few of those heart-to-heart brother talks Sam loved so much but Dean had really been starting to hope. Then Cas came back and while Dean had missed him and felt isolated from Sam sometimes he had also grasped the importance of this opportunity to focus on Sam. There were no distractions to keep him from his brother and the health of both him and their relationship. It wasn’t as if Cas came back to ruin things, or like Cas coming back was a bad thing, it was a good thing. It was just that Cas was complicated, he wasn’t exactly the catalyst for normal, even Winchester normal. He was more of a distraction to Dean now than he’d ever been before. He was a freakin’ girl for God’s sake! How did that even work anyway? God plucks Cas from the jaws of death and turns him into a babe? Not even a babe really, just a quirky sort of cute girl with serious height issues and a great rack. He was literally a girl version of himself. The resemblance was uncanny and Dean couldn’t help but find it all extremely bizarre. Did God have a friggin gender-bend kink or what? It wouldn’t surprise him to find out that God was a pervert. It actually made sense.  
What didn’t make sense was how Cas had become Sam’s distraction instead of Dean’s and how it actually seemed to be positive despite how inexplicable and kind of nauseating it was. For Christ’s sake the two of them snuggling in the back of his car like kittens. Or a kitten and a large dog since Sam was taking up the majority of the back seat while Cas was curled in on himself. It was almost kind of cute when he thought of it like that. Sammy had gotten so damned tall from the snot nosed kid he’d once been. Dean remembered how little Sam used to be. He remembered a time when the back seat was like an actual bed to his baby brother and the two of them were rocked to sleep by the feeling of flying down the highway. He remembered how his dad would turn the radio down low so it wouldn’t wake his boys and sing over it in a hushed whisper. Dean waited up for it some nights, laying there quiet and tucked in as the Impala swayed over asphalt until his dad started to hum along and eventually sing. Dean’s knuckles were white as his hands gripped the steering wheel hard and he cleared his throat quietly to stop the burning in his sinuses that came before the tears. He’d learned to stop crying before he started at a young age. Despite that he missed his father.  
Dean’s moment went unnoticed by his passengers and even he designated it very little attention, focusing instead on his destination. Dean didn’t know where the fuck he was going. Sam and him had been holed up in that motel for almost a week and hadn’t found any potential hunts. He didn’t know where he was going but he knew he had to get the heck out of that crappy little room in that crappy little motel in that crappy little town. Not for the first time and certainly not for the last time Dean found himself wishing he had a home to go to. He wanted to go to Bobby’s and flop down onto the couch. There would be beer and hot food and he could work on his car. Sam would come out and help him or do research with Bobby and everything would be fine. Except it wouldn’t be fine because Bobby’s house had burnt to the ground and its owner was dead and, unlike Cas, he wasn’t coming back.   
Dean realized that he was heading west like he was driving to Sioux Falls.   
He was driving home on auto-pilot. There was nothing there for them now though; his adopted home was nothing but a memory and a bunch of rusted cars in a field. He watched the reflector lights on the road as they blurred into a glowing line and thought about where they should go. He needed somewhere to rest and get his bearings while he figured out what was going on with Cas and Sam; both together and separately. It hit him when he saw the State Trooper car parked up ahead. As Dean slowed to a more legal speed he finally decided on a destination and when the cop was out of sight he picked up his cell phone and called Sheriff Mills. She answered on the second ring even though it was well past midnight and she sounded awake and alert.   
“Dean?” Her voice was full of poorly concealed concern.  
“Hey Jodi, we’re ok, it’s just that we were in the neighborhood and thought we’d give you a call.”  
“Dean you aren’t really known for making ‘we were in the neighborhood’ visits, I hope you won’t take it the wrong way if I ask you what’s really going on.” She had a great ‘mom’ voice, Dean thought, wincing with guilt as he remembered how they’d met in the first place.  
“We’re fine Sheriff, honest,” the silence on the other end of the call was patient and insistent. The levee broke.  
“Cas came back and he’s a girl and he’s all chummy with Sam who’s been acting moodier than usual and he just had a freaking panic attack after waking up from a nightmare and I don’t know where the hell else to go.”  
“Well that… wait he’s a girl?” There was some static and fumbling on Jodi’s end and then she got back on the line, “I’m sorry did you say that Castiel isn’t dead and that he’s a girl?”  
“Yeah that’s basically the jist of it,” Dean said with a quiet sigh.  
“Well I guess that’s no weirder than leviathan or even just angels in the first place.” She said in a matter of fact tone tinged with exasperation. “When do you think you’ll get here?”  
He gave her an estimated time of arrival and thanked her for putting up with all the crazy shit they put her through. She shrugged it off and told him she’d make up the couch. Dean was relieved but once again felt a pang of guilt. It probably wasn’t fair to call her, or bring this weirdness onto her again. She’d lost enough and come out pretty much intact considering the Winchester’s track record. Yet when Dean got off the phone with her he felt a hundred times better. Having somewhere to go other than another anonymous motel room meant the world to him right now. Just being able to walk into another room instead of having to leave and go to the bar would be a blessing. Not to mention that with Jodi there everyone would be on their best behavior. She had her mom voice after all.   
Yet as grateful as Dean was he couldn’t help but think with a hint of despair that the only person he had to call in this world, besides the two people sleeping in the backseat, was Jodi Mills. She was a wonderful woman and as resilient as people came, but she was someone they’d met only a few years ago. When he’d needed someone to turn to he’d called her, and not just because he was close or she lived in Bobby’s old town. It was because she was the person he trusted the most. Other people, friends he had once called them, hunters mostly, were either out for his and Sam’s blood or wanted nothing to do with them. Jodi was pretty much the last card he had up his sleeve. The oldest friend he had was only a few years old and that made him feel a sort of panic in his gut as he drove through the night toward South Dakota.


End file.
